Tainted
by 2Padfoot00Moony7
Summary: A quiet night in the common room and the enigma that is Sirius is reading. Remus is thinking about him. RLSB. Fluff.


_A/N; This is a little apology for uploading aboslutely nothing RLSB-fied in months! Well, I dunno if it's actually been months, but it bloody feels like it. Just a little bit of heart warming fluff from Remus' perspective. Harry Potter World kick-started the obsession with everything HP again and I've got a couple of longer stories that need editing and stuff._

_Enjoy! _

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**Tainted**

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He's so tainted. Even more so than I me, I think. He never talks about it, never breaks that vow of silence he took out in first year and has never looked back upon. He says it's too horrible to relive and too horrible to bestow upon another. I don't think he realises that my conscious plagues me and all I see is his face screwed up with terror and a pain so deep it's almost unimaginable. I don't think he realises that I dream about what happened to him. But I do, you know, I dream so much about dark places and shouted orders and sharp, stinging slaps across the face.

But then... Then I dream about him in other ways too. About dark corners and panted names, wandering hands that shouldn't happen. I've never told him. Nor James, either. I can't imagine he'd care to know or be all that interested, to be honest.

I mean, he likes sex and all, but I'm his best friend. _His best friend_. And male at that! Oh, god. Just imagine it! 'Hey, Sirius, just so you know, I've being dreams about you. No, not the normal kind. The kind that involve sticky sheets and red cheeks. The kind where you're on your knees for me.' Hmm. He'd be absolutely _thrilled_ wouldn't he?

I think - I think he has 'dabbled in that side of the lake' if you get my meaning. He's - he's not shy. In fact, quite the opposite. He'll flirt with pretty much anything and I think he's slept with at least half of the girls in our school. Even some of the lads, if their reactions to him are anything to go by. He - he admitted to me once - and he's never told anybody this, not even James before - that he's kissed a guy before. He said he quite liked it an all that. Little bit weird when there was nothing to grope chest-wise but otherwise he said - he said it was quite pleasant. A little bit rougher and drier but - but more intense. I don't know why he told me. I can't remember why. I think it might've been because he caught me staring at him one time. Or - or because I'd caught him coming in one night, stumbling around the common room with his tie draped around his neck and most of his shirt buttons undone sporting a new love-bite like some trophy. I'd been sat doing an essay for - for Professor McGonagall? Yes, yes, that's it. It had been terribly hard that essay. Harder than her others. The Common Room was empty and the light was low so the fire must've being dying meaning - meaning it was in the early hours of the morning. Yes, I can remember the shadows that light threw!

He'd sort of - froze - when he saw me, looking almost guilty as e perched himself down on the table next to me. I can remember thinking there was something terribly sensual about him. Something that screamed sex and lust and desire and a sort of - a sort of glow to him that made me want to taste him in the crudest way possible.

It was then I started this - obsession.

But like I said, he'd looked nervous too. And he'd been twisting his hands around in a gesture of vulnerability that he never shows. Ever. I'd gone to ask what had happened and he'd just... blurted it out. Looking me in the eye the entire time and his voice - my god, that voice! He spoke so low and quickly it was like - god, it was like a heated whisper! My blood had boiled at that whisper! And the idea of him being so - so - so _intimate_ with another boy!

He'd kept getting really close to me then, keeping eye contact as though it meant something. I can remember thinking - thinking that he was, that he wanted to kiss me? He didn't, of course. But after that I obsessed over the idea. I dreamt about him for the first time that night - nothing worse than a kiss - but I still couldn't meet his eyes the following morning.

If I was to be entirely honest with myself, then I'd admit that he probably knows. He's never flirted with any of the Marauder's, but even James took me aside the other day and asked me if there was something he needed to know. He said he'd asked Sirius but all Sirius had done was wink and smile as though there was everything and nothing going on between us.

He's working now. Well, he was. Sat in a chair by the fire, feet pulled up and book resting against his knees. It's a rare sight, this. But he looks so peaceful, so _perfect_ that I find it hard to look away once I see him. I can't help but notice the curve of his lips, and the soft twinkle in his eyes that warms the grey. I can't help but notice the little path of skin where his shirt's ridden up, and the toned muscles where his shirts been unbuttoned down to his belly. I can't help but notice the hair that falls across his face and how long and slight his hands are - almost feminine, to some degree - and how the way he's stroking the book is making me squirm so uncomfortably.

He must notice. He must notice the way I'm almost panting, he must notice the way I fidget every few seconds, the pillow on my knee, the whitening of my knuckles as I grip my quill so tightly I can feel it beginning to snap!

He climbed into my bed, once. Woke me from a nightmare when he slipped in next to me and put his arms around me. Sirius hides so much from human contact that I'd been so surprised I forgot to react. It wasn't until I'd shifted enough to move my hips away from him and keep my hands in appropriate places that I realised he was crying.

Sirius doesn't cry! Never! It's just- just not him.

I didn't say anything. Just let him cry into my neck, and clutch my body so close to him that all the images of my forbidden dreams had come rushing back and my hands were shaking so badly, my body was trembling and I can remember battling with my instincts to turn - my, god, how little I would've had to move! - And kiss him.

I didn't.

God knows how the hell I managed it, but I didn't.

He'd never mentioned it again and I'd taken that as a cue to keep my silence.

He looks up at me, eyes slightly glazed and mouth in a small, slack smile. "You shouldn't stare so much, Remus," he says, "Anyone would get the wrong impression."

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! I can't even look at him!

I hear him stand up; hear his back click as he stretches out and then the slight pad of his feet as he walks over. I keep looking at the fire, desperately aware that the Common Room's almost empty. That there's only a seventh year prefect working furiously in the corner and James sat dozing at the bottom of the girls-stairs, waiting for Lily.

He sits down next to me. Close, too, too close. The heat from his thigh _burns_ and my eyes snap towards him. He looks confused, I notice. Lips just parted as he watches me. I dare a glance to his eyes and see how wide they've grown, see how his pupils have dilated and how his hand has frozen near his face. And yet... yet there's still some stupid fucking sensuality about him that's making me - that's changing me. That's changing me.

And I hate him, quite suddenly, I hate him.

"Why do I feel this, Rem?" he whispers, moving closer, putting an arm round my shoulders and a hand on my knee. I stare at him. What the hell? I thought only I felt it? Only I felt this - _this_. Whatever it is that's been changing and warping and bubbling between us? I thought it was only me?

And he laughs darkly, deeply, sending tremors down my spine and a pounding through my body. I can't look away. I can't. And I - I don't want to.

I feel his hand move up my leg, and toss the pillow away. Slowly. Everything's so fucking slow! And his hand starts crawling back up again, moving in little circles that's creating a pressure somewhere - _somewhere_. And my eyes flicker and I bite down on my bottom lip to stop the noise - the, bloody hell, dare I say it, the _moan_.

I see the change. I can pinpoint the moment when it suddenly clicks for him and he's seeing me as he's never seen me and he's suddenly Sirius again. My Sirius. And his hand pauses just below my groin and he moves, slowly, achingly slowly, as he slides his hand down my back to push up inside my shirt and tickle the skin just as his lips reach mine and I can feel them trembling, I can almost feel his confusion at what he's doing. But he's confident. And he knows how to coax my mouth open, and how to move his tongue at just right the right moment and how to trace his fingers against my skin and how to move his hand on my leg. Slowly. Everything's so slow. So damn slow! I feel as though I'm holding my breath, as though we should be running so much faster than this but god, the pressure! My god, that pressure!

He pulls away, so lightly and so slowly that out lips are nearly apart when he says, "James."

My eyes are still shut, and I'm teetering between that edge of wanting to carry on and moving before James wakes up. I teeter.

I teeter...

And I fall. Who knows when I'm going to get another chance like this? Who knows what's going to happen and if this is what Sirius is offering, then I'm taking it. Whatever it is. I'm taking it.

To satisfy my curiosity. To satisfy me.

He kisses me. Pushing me back into the sofa as he moves his arm away from me and I panic, grabbing his hips in case he's trying to leave. But he chuckles, a vibration that I can feel as he moves his lips to my neck, sucking and nipping and I worry, briefly, about a mark.

But then he slides himself onto my knee and my mind goes wonderfully blank. He pins my wrists beside me, each nip, and suck, and bite lasting a little bit longer than the last until I'm all but writhing about underneath him, causing our hips to bump and slide together every so often.

Our breathing's got faster, heavier, stronger and when he stops to look at me, I can see the flush on his cheeks and the heavy-lidded expression that tells me he needs this. "We need to stop -" he murmurs, running his hands through my hair, down my cheeks and chest, teasing and teasing and fucking teasing.

"Why!" I don't want this to stop. God, no. This can't stop - it can't. I need this. I need this more than I realised.

He pulls himself away completely, almost falling as he tears his body-warmth from my grasp and lands on his backside in front of me. He crawls forward again and kneels between my legs, hands trailing up and down my stomach. "Because - because I want this to go further than you do. Because I'm not sure how I feel - how I feel about any of this and I don't - I don't want to hurt you."

"I know what I'm getting myself into." But my heart breaks as I say it. Of course I know. One night. One chance. One time. And then that's it. I'm in the bin with the rest of his conquests, no better than a well used hankie. I've always known that but still I wanted him, still dreamt about making him mine and only _mine_.

He pushes my shirt up and kisses the exposed skin, swirling his tongue around as he bites down, hard, and my hips jerk upwards only to be steadied with his hands. He chuckles again and keeps his hold until hy hands have found his hair to twine around and my eyes are so tightly shut all I can see is black stars.

"You aren't ready," I hear him say, "You're so nervous and I don't -" He sighs, hot breath tickling my skin and I bite my lip again, biting back everything I want to tell him, "I don't want to ruin this for you."

He sits next to me, sliding my feet up onto the sofa and curling my body against him, so we're laid out together. He touches my cheek gently. He looks so... so... are their words for how he looks? His hair's all over, his lips are beautifully swollen and there's a tiny bite on his neck that wasn't there before and I don't remember doing. And it was me. It was me that's made his cheeks flush, and his eyes bright and his lips red. It's me. Me! Little old me that's had this affect on him!

He shifts us again so our bodies are tight together and he undoes my shirt completely so we're skin to skin and I press further into him, lips seeking his.

"Innocent," he mutters, "So, innocent!" His hand is on my neck, holding me to him as he laughs delightedly. How do I describe what I'm feeling? Fear. Desire. Need. Fear. Yes. Fear is tangible above it all. Scared of what will happen between us, scared of how Sirius will react tomorrow, scared of somebody coming in, scared of not being good enough...

"Relax. We're not doing anything tonight."

My heart should break at those words but there's a weight to them that suggests we've got all the time in the world to experiment and so I willingly close my eyes and let my breathing calm because I can't push him. Not now. I can't get this close and let slide from my fingertips for being so impatient.

"Will you still be there when I wake up tomorrow?"

He chuckles into my ear, a low deep sound that wraps me up and makes my skin tingle. "If you want me to be," he says, voice still low and deep and heavy, "I'll always be here when you wake up if that's what you want."

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_.x0x. The End. .x0x._


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